


The Changeling

by Rroselavy



Category: Saiyuki
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-05
Updated: 2011-12-05
Packaged: 2017-10-26 23:14:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/288958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rroselavy/pseuds/Rroselavy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chasing after an illusion brings Sanzo disastrous results.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Changeling

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sekaiseifuku](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sekaiseifuku/gifts).



> Written for **Sekaiseifuku** for her contribution to the Help_Japan LJ community. I hope you enjoy it, dear! With massive thanks to my dear friend **Kis** for being a sounding board and beta extraordinaire.

“Kouryuu.”

Sanzo’s eyes open and instantly he’s awake, disentangling his limbs from the sleeping bag. It’s early; the light that filters into his tent is an ultraviolet blue. Goku stirs and Sanzo freezes; the last thing he wants is to talk to someone. The seconds tick by, then Goku sighs and rolls over. Sanzo slips his bare feet into his boots and pulls on his overcoat. His hands are shaking as he fastens the buttons. He needs to piss.

It was his master’s voice -- unforgettable and unmistakable -- but still only a dream, albeit one that has unsettled Sanzo. He knows he won’t go back to sleep, so he’ll stir the fire and melt some snow into the kettle to make coffee. If he’s lucky, or careful, he’ll make enough noise to roust Hakkai, and then the smell of breakfast should be more than enough to pry Goku and Gojyo out of their bedrolls. There’s something about the place that they’ve chosen to camp -- on the edge of a primordial forest -- that sets Sanzo’s teeth on edge, not that there was much choice in the matter; they’ve come upon a stretch of road that has left them days without seeing a living thing, not even enemies. The unbroken boredom is taking its toll on the group. Goku and Gojyo have been at each others’ throats, Hakkai has been white-knuckled and unusually silent, and Sanzo’s been at the brink of losing his temper more often than not. He’s bone-tired of this mission which he’s long ago concluded is some red herring and yet it’s not in his nature to walk away and leave it unfinished.

Overnight, a crust has formed on the snow. Sanzo’s boots make a crunching sound in the still morning air and his breath forms a cloud as he exhales. Despite the clear day dawning -- the first rays of the sun have crested the mountain range that towers behind them -- it feels like more snow is on the way, and that thought blackens his mood further.

As he pokes at the embers of the prior evening’s campfire, Sanzo decides the worst part about the dream that woke him is he can’t even remember any of it.

“Kouryuu.”

Sanzo whirls round and, out of the corner of his eye, he catches a glimpse of white robes and a long, silvery, braid swinging through a nearby thicket of silhouetted tree trunks. He shivers involuntarily and feels the fine hair on the back of his neck stand on end before he gives chase. A voice -- one of reason -- urges him to stop. But he can’t help himself, the figure that darts between the trees looks too much like his memories of Koumyou. Glancing down, he sees there are no footprints for him to follow; not that he expected there to be any. On some gut level, he’s sure he’s being lured into some kind of enchantment; at the same time, he’s hopeful and furious. A not at all small part of him wants to catch up and find that it is Koumyou, but when he finds it isn’t, gods help whoever’s behind the trickery.

Whoever or whatever the thing is, it’s putting distance between them, though not enough for Sanzo to give up the chase. He hates the sense of being manipulated and as his breath grows more labored, his anger increases exponentially. The figure stops then, and turns to face him. He’s too far away for Sanzo to make out the features with any certainty; he makes a mad dash forward to get closer and then the ground vanishes from under his feet and he’s free falling.

 

He comes to, shivering, and could swear that he can smell the cold. The odor is distinct -- minty -- and so clean that it nearly burns his nostrils. He feels ice crystals form on the cilia inside his nasal passages. The snow has soaked through his overcoat and robes. He rolls onto his back gingerly, surprised that he doesn’t feel any pain. In fact, his body feels damned good, even the sore shoulder he’d been nursing rather than wasting Hakkai’s chi on is pain free. He sees a crack of blue sky above him; the blue so vibrant it nearly hurts his eyes. He judges that he’s fallen about ten feet into a hollow in the ground that had been covered with snow. Where he’s landed is relatively wide, but the sides taper in around him to a narrow slit above his head.

He hears Jeep rumbling in the distance for some time. He listens attentively as the engine grows louder, then is cut and the thuds of heavy, boot-clad feet come towards the ravine.

“Down here! Watch out!” His voice thunders, surprisingly unmuffled by the snowy walls that surround him.

He raises his arm and then stares at long, delicately tapered talons. He blinks a few times, flexing his fingers, trying to make sense of what he’s seeing.

“HohSHIT!” Gojyo’s head appears briefly over the ridge of snow above Sanzo, then instantly disappears.

“He’s turned,” he whispers.

“What do you mean ‘he’s turned’?” Hakkai’s voice is equally as soft.

“Talons, fangs, pointy ears -- the whole shebang!”

“I can hear you, assholes. Now why don’t you put your meager brains together and figure a way to help me out of here.” He stands up and tests the walls. The snow gives way easily under his hands and boots, leaving him no closer to the top.

A shower of it comes down from above and Sanzo looks up again. It’s Goku this time. Their eyes lock and Goku holds his gaze steadily.

“Lower me down an’ Sanzo can climb up on me,” he says, not looking away.

Gojyo and Hakkai are going back and forth on the merits of that plan.

“C’mon guys, it’s Sanzo! We gotta get him outta there.”

“I got nothing,” Gojyo finally concedes.

“Unless we drive back to camp and get the rope we left behind,” Hakkai qualifies.

Sanzo curses under his breath. “Idiots!”

“Hey, hey, hey, Cherry-chan, none of us is at the bottom of a snow pit,” Gojyo retorts.

None of them would be stupid enough to leave camp without their weapons, either, Sanzo thinks darkly, his trigger finger itching.

“Stuff it, Kappa! ‘M sure Sanzo had a good reason to run off like that.”

“Aw, the baby monkey’s protecting his master. How sweet.”

“Who ya callin’ baby, asswipe!”

They’re moving off task.

“Enough!” Sanzo roars. “Get me the hell out of here!” Snow falls on him, loosened from the walls. He hears Gojyo’s laugh cut off with a muted _thud_ and then there’s the sounds of a brief scuffle before Goku hoots triumphantly.

“Sanzo,” Hakkai peers over the edge. “You didn’t happen to see if there was a limiter nearby, did you?”

“The hell I did,” he snarls, but he glances around his feet. A glint of metal catches his eyes. There’s a silver cuff half buried in the snow. He picks it up, it’s so cold it nearly burns his skin, but it warms quickly. A strange energy pulses from it. “This?” He holds it up for Hakkai to inspect.

“It certainly looks like one, Sanzo. Why don’t you try it on?”

At this point, Sanzo has nothing to lose, and he’s mindful that in this state he’s susceptible to the Minus Wave. The irony weighs his shoulders down. He slips the cuff over his wrist. It fits snugly, as if it were made especially for him. The entire situation as he sees it now reeks of The Merciful Goddess, the bitch. He half expects Her to appear over Hakkai’s shoulder, if only to mock him.

The transformation is immediate and uncomfortable, but painless. His senses are still heightened, but it’s not as extreme a feeling. A small part of him is already calculating how this new wrinkle could be turned to their advantage as they continue west. A far greater part of him, though, wants the situation to be fixed, immediately.

“All right, since no one has any better ideas, lower the monkey down. And I swear if you choose this moment to get even with him, kappa, I _will_ kill you.” Sanzo feels slightly foolish making his threat at such a disadvantage, but Gojyo takes it seriously enough.

Goku’s feet dangle over the edge and then he’s lowered down against the wall, Hakkai and Gojyo each holding an arm.

“Shitshitshit it’s cold!”

“Quit your whining,” Sanzo mutters.

For once in his life Goku holds his tongue, and he doesn’t so much as grunt as Sanzo scales his body.

Sanzo, for his part, does his best to ignore the mass of flesh and bone underneath the material of Goku’s coat. It’s useless; he’s far too aware of the lean, sinewy form below him. What’s more, Goku smells _good_ , and it’s odd that Sanzo should notice something like that now. Then it dawns on him, Goku’s probably always smelled this way; it’s just that his human senses never were able to smell him before. Just the same, the scent makes his belly coil tightly in a not-so-unpleasant manner. The sensation plummets to his groin and he curses under his breath.

“You okay?”

Sanzo’s shimmied up to so that his head is level with Goku’s. Their cheeks are just a hair’s-breadth apart. Goku’s scent is much stronger in Sanzo’s nose, though, and the realization of just what it is dawns on him.

“What do you think, moron?” he asks through gritted teeth. He gets on knee on Goku’s shoulder, probably landing it with more force than he needs, then the other. Then he’s being yanked up by his collar. Goku follows, his eyes flashing angrily.

Sanzo doesn’t wait for any of them to speak. He stalks over to Jeep and takes his place in the passenger seat, his arms crossed over his chest. The ride back to camp is a pregnant silence.

He refuses to talk about it. He stonewalls them all and, when they get back to camp, he kicks Goku out of their tent for good measure. Over the next few days, bullets fly more easily than they usually do and with more accuracy. The tension between him and the rest of the group grows exponentially, but he’s not in any hurry to dispel it.

The youkai traits have made Sanzo even more of a ferocious fighter and he’s been tempted to remove the limiter. With that temptation has come a sick fear; he’s exchanged one yoke for another. He’ll never be free and now he’s become one and the same as the creatures who spilled his master’s blood.

 

“I’ve brought you something to eat.” Hakkai places the tray he’s carried in delicately at the foot of Sanzo’s bed. They’d come upon a gambling town out in the middle of the desert and, tired of sleeping on hard ground under the stars, Sanzo begrudgingly agreed to stop over. The rooms he’s let are opulent by any standards, and he was tempted to get them each their own, except Hakkai piped up and ordered two rooms, the bastard. It’s no secret that he’s banging Gojyo, or maybe Gojyo’s banging him; the red head has been broadcasting it like a gossip page in a cheap rag. He’s sickeningly happy, and even Hakkai has been less passive-aggressive than usual.

Sanzo’s mood, however, is about as black as it’s ever been, not in the least because he was shunned at the one monastery they’ve found along the way since his accident, cutting off his chance to petition the gods to return him to his human form, at least -- and this was a longer shot -- to give him a reason for the transformation in the first place. He’s surer than ever that this has nothing to do with Ukoku. No, this has the stench of heaven all over it.

“I’m not--“

“You’re body is hungry, even if you aren’t.” He cuts Sanzo off deftly.

Sanzo glowers even as his stomach growls. His mouth is already watering. Hakkai wears a self-satisfied grin. It widens when Sanzo reaches for a bowl steamed rice. He knows this dinner doesn’t come without a price so he steels himself for it.

“Be sure to eat more protein than you normally do.”

Sanzo merely grunts as he lifts a clump to his lips.

“He loves you, you know.”

And nearly spits it out.

“I didn’t know dinner meant having _the talk_.” He looks over Hakkai’s shoulder at a generic print of a mountainside, its slopes awash in fall colors, hanging on the far wall above the flat screen TV. As if Goku’s feelings weren’t obvious before all this. Hakkai doesn’t reply and Sanzo knows at this point he’ll outwait him. The silence could stretch for hours, but it won’t be a comfortable one. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course you may, Sanzo.”

“Why not you?”

Hakkai looks at him quizzically, and his cheeks turn pink. Sanzo watches him closely. Hakkai is the first to look away. He glances down at the tray and arranges the items left on it -- a dipping bowl, another bowl with some mystery meat stew in it, and a handle-less cup of coffee -- in a complex geometrical pattern.

“It was clear from the very first time we met that there was no room for anyone else in your heart.” He lifts his eyes and gives Sanzo a small smile. “Besides, someone needed to settle Gojyo down.”

“I won’t insult your taste in lovers.” Sanzo replaces the rice bowl on the tray, ruining Hakkai’s symmetry. Hakkai’s hands twitch.

“And I won’t insult Goku’s.”

Hakkai’s statement confirms Sanzo’s suspicions and makes his stomach roil. As if Goku even knows what being a lover entails, he fumes to himself.

“I’m not his lover, Hakkai.” Sanzo’s voice is a low warning.

“I’m not going to give you advice, Sanzo, but Goku has certain needs, and if you’re unable to fulfill them, eventually, he’ll look elsewhere.” He gazes at Sanzo evenly, pretending to be oblivious to the daggers staring back at him.

“Is that all?”

Hakkai nods his head. “Well, I’ll let you eat in peace. You can leave the tray outside your door when you’re done.”

Once alone, Sanzo tears into the food on the tray and makes short work of it. He hates how out of control his body is; he’s always prided himself on his mental control, but since he took that fall, he’s barely hanging on to it. The food, however, satisfies the intense hunger that he was trying to ignore before Hakkai politely knocked on his door.

Goku returns to the room, barely looking in Sanzo’s direction. He smells strongly of chlorine and Sanzo’s thankful of that; it masks the other scent -- the one that tantalizes and torments Sanzo.

“‘M gonna take a shower,” he says, not bothering to hesitate as he strides across the room.

Sanzo doesn’t answer. He’s rummaging through his duffel looking for his tools. His gun’s been getting a lot of use and could use a good cleaning. Sanzo does his best to concentrate on the meticulous job, but his thoughts wander to the sound of the shower running. He pictures Goku under the stream, the water sluicing over his flawless skin. He wants to join him there, wants to pin him against the tiles and fuck him. The knowledge that Goku would welcome just that makes it nearly impossible to resist.

The water is shut off and a few minutes later Goku drifts out, a towel riding low on his hips. He bends over his satchel, affording Sanzo an eyeful of his ass. He waits until Goku is suitably dressed before he gets his attention.

“Goku, we need to talk.” He stands up and doesn’t miss the hope in Goku’s eyes when their gazes meet.

Sanzo holds his gun butt out for Goku to take. He wants Goku to be comfortable with the feel of the weapon.

“If something happens, I want you to kill me.”

Goku’s eyes widen at first, then his expression fades and he shakes his head slowly. “I can’t do that.”

“What do you mean, you ‘can’t’? When you asked me, I told you I would do it for you!”

“I know. But that was different. You don’t love me as much as I love you.”

The words hit Sanzo like a punch to the breastbone and for several seconds he can’t breathe. He almost misses Goku’s next statement.

“Besides, I just said you should let me stay dead, I didn’t want to be revived the way Hazel did it.”

Sanzo lowers the gun to his side and rubs his forehead with his free hand. He can feel the vein at his temple throbbing.

“I don’t want to live without you, Sanzo,” Goku says quietly.

“But, you already have,” he replies through clenched teeth.

“’t’s not the same. I knew you were still alive.” Goku’s face changes again, this time to a sorrowful expression. “Is that how much you hate us?” he asks softly. Sanzo feels the fine hair on the back of his neck and on his arms stand up as the words sink like stones in his gut. It’s not about hate, it’s about insanity. It’s about becoming one of the bastards who killed his master.

“Get out!” he snaps. Goku makes no move to leave.

“Then give me the gun. I can’t stop you from killing yourself, but, dammit, I’m gonna try.”

Goku sounds almost unbearably reasonable, while Sanzo feels as if he’s spiraling out of control. His hands move automatically, they’re shaking as he empties the chamber of its bullets. He snaps it back in place and the anger inside him bubbles out.

“I’m not going to kill myself, you cretin.”

Goku holds out his hand to take the cartridges. He pockets them before he leaves the room, closing the door carefully behind him.

Left alone, Sanzo is deflated. He feels betrayed by the little shit. He storms around the small room. It’s richly appointed in muted tones. He glares at the ginko-patterned wallpaper as if to scorch it off the walls. Goku has no right! He has no idea what he means to him, how hard it was for him to make that promise -- harder still to follow through on it. And Sanzo’d only been able to follow through on it after he’d seen with his own eyes that Gojyo had hold of both Goku and Hakkai. After he was certain Goku was still alive. They’ve never talked about it because he thought the moron understood.

His fingers are still trembling when he strikes a match to light a cigarette. He takes a drag but it fails to soothe him; he’s well into his third cigarette before he decides he needs to numb his raw nerves with a few drinks at the bar downstairs.

By that time, he’s mortified by his behavior. Goku’s completely misread his vulnerability and now he thinks that Sanzo thinks youkai are somehow inferior to humans. And, hell, maybe he does subconsciously -- he doesn’t think so -- but it’s hard to explain how much he despises his predicament. It isn’t like he was born youkai or half youkai, or he’s wiped out a clan of youkai in revenge as Hakkai did; he only fell into a ravine and woke up like this, completely, utterly, unprepared for the assault on his now razor-keen senses and his body and the new fear that snakes insidiously through every waking moment.

Worse though, is that Goku has it in his thick skull that somehow their love is unequal. Just thinking the word and all the its connotations makes Sanzo queasy. He’s never professed any love for another being other than Koumyou Sanzo and that hadn’t gotten him very far, but as much as he outwardly adheres to the tenet _muichi motsu_ , he’s all too aware that he fails to live up to ‘holding nothing’ nearly every day of his life. For one thing, he thinks bitterly, if he hadn’t been holding on to the ghost of his master, he wouldn’t be in this situation at all.

He’s angry, too. Angry that Goku actually sounded _sensible_ and _wise_ and yet blatantly failed to fit the pieces of the puzzle together well enough to see that Sanzo’s actions, from agreeing to let him die all the way to confronting Ukoku Sanzo, had been all _because_ he loves Goku. It should have been obvious -- would have been -- to anyone without a simian brain.

Goku is seated at the bar when Sanzo gets there, and he’s not alone. A pretty little youkai girl has draped herself all over him. Sanzo stands just inside the entrance and watches them in the mirror behind the bar.

Some ‘love,’ he thinks wryly. He watches as she bends in towards Goku’s ear, the knowing curl to her lips as she speaks into it eliciting an unspeakable rage inside Sanzo. He’s ready to march across the floor triumphantly to point this fact out to Goku, but before he can take a step, Goku gently extricates himself from her clutches with a bashful grin. She looks surprised, her mouth forming a perfect “o.”

Then Gojyo materializes from the direction of the casino and snakes an arm around her slender shoulders. He says something in her ear and she laughs, and then ruffles Goku’s hair. She’s not looking at him any longer, though, she’s scanning the room, already lining up her next victim. She wanders away, her hips swaying to the beat of the music the DJ is spinning.

Sanzo knows he’s being unfair. She’s probably a perfectly nice young woman, and he can’t fault her taste. But he hasn’t been feeling charitable lately.

If it had been up to him, he would have happily remained oblivious to the kind of love he knew Goku was talking about earlier. But that loss of innocence was one of the first ‘gifts’ that becoming a youkai brought to him. Fortunately, Sanzo learned very early in his puberty how to control his own unwanted physical reactions, because Goku’s scent when he became aroused (which was way too often), was impossible for Sanzo to ignore. It was alluring, intoxicating, even. And it tested his mettle relentlessly.

He makes his way over to the bar. Gojyo spots him first; Goku barely makes eye contact when he realizes Sanzo is there.

“I think I’ll flirt with Lady Luck over at the roulette wheel,” Gojyo says, taking his leave of them quickly. Sanzo wonders how much Goku told him then figures he’s probably spilled his guts. The music in the bar is so loud that it drowns out most of his other senses, but Sanzo can still discern Goku’s warm scent. It’s ironic that Goku thinks of him as the sun when it’s Goku who seems to embody it.

He pulls up a stool and sits down next to Goku. Their shoulders touch briefly before Goku flinches away. For the first time it dawns on Sanzo that Goku might no longer want to return to Keiun with him if they make it out of Houtou castle alive. Hakkai’s earlier warning, which Sanzo dismissed, now gnaws at the edges of his mind and he wonders if in holding Goku at arm’s length all these years he’s actually managed to push him away. It’s what he’s always professed he wanted, but now that he sees that it could be so, Sanzo feels how empty his life will be without the monkey in it. He can’t help it; he wants Goku to stay with him.

It’s an utterly selfish thought.

The bartender -- a lanky youkai -- comes by; he’s staring curiously at the dot on Sanzo’s forehead. He’d discarded his robes in favor of his jeans and a pullover sweater and his limiter peeks out from under a fraying cuff. He sees the man’s gaze fall to his wrist before it focuses back on Sanzo’s face. Satisfied, it seems, the man nods his head.

“I’ll have whatever he’s drinking.” Sanzo glances over the bar in front of Goku. There’s an empty pint glass and a nearly empty double old-fashioned. Goku hunches his shoulders and Sanzo catches him looking at him in the mirror. Goku averts his eyes.

It’s going to be an uphill slog.

He doesn’t know where to begin, though, so he waits for his drinks to arrive in silence. The drumbeat from the song blasting out of the speakers vibrates through his breastbone and spine.

“M’ sorry I couldn’t do it,” Goku mumbles. Sanzo can barely hear his voice over the pounding beat.

“It wasn’t fair of me to ask,” Sanzo says, leaning in close, until the hair on their heads brushes together. The bartender returns with his drinks. Sanzo straightens and digs into his pocket to fish out some crumpled bills. He lays them on the bar and the man scoops them up before moving down the line to his other customers.

“I don’t want you to die.” Goku turns his head now to look directly at him. For a second, Sanzo becomes hypnotized by the depth of emotion in his eyes, then he has to look away.

What can he say to that? They both know that some day it’s inevitable, even with the extended lifeline turning youkai has afforded him.

“I don’t want to die,” he admits. Dying is giving up; an admission that he’s been bested by whatever supernatural power has shoved him into this position, that he couldn’t complete the mission he’d started out on.

And just like that Goku’s face lights up.

“Really?”

Sanzo drinks his whisky down in one gulp. Warmth radiates outward from his gut, not entirely fueled by the alcohol.

“It’s nothing to celebrate, moron. I don’t want to be youkai, either, but not for the reasons you may think.” He reaches for the beer chaser.

“Because it’s not who you are,” Goku offers helpfully.

Sanzo thinks about that statement. In its stunning simplicity, Goku’s managed to zero in and distill the cesspool of emotions that have left Sanzo completely unbalanced and nearly unhinged.

“But that doesn’t matter. At least not to me, because you’re still you.”

Now he’s given Sanzo something else to chew on; equally as simple and profound. He lifts the pint of beer to his lips and takes a sip. It’s ice-cold and he drinks most of it before he sets the glass down. The pleasant buzz that has settled in his belly intensifies. He motions to the bartender to bring him another round.

He knows what he means to Goku, but Goku’s got it all backwards. He watches Goku in the mirror. He’s fidgeting in his seat, busily rolling one edge of the damp napkin his beer is set on up to the glass and then unrolling it, inspecting it like it’s the most interesting thing he’s ever seen. It’s disintegrating, leaving a trail of miniature spit-balls on the copper surface of the bar. He’s making a mess of things, but the napkin can be replaced. People -- Goku -- can’t.

Sanzo swallows hard. He still feels enraged, but it’s anger directed inward, where it belongs. He was a fool to chase after his dead master’s ghost and an idiot to be so cavalier with Goku all these years, even if he didn’t know for certain what Goku was after.

Now that he does know what Goku wants, for the life of him, Sanzo can’t find an excuse not to give it to him that doesn’t sound like he’s scared shitless.

“How long would you have waited for me?” he asks. It’s a safe question and one that abdicates his responsibility for the moment.

Goku looks at him puzzled for a second before he answers, “As long as I had to.”

Sanzo grimaces. He wishes he had a cigarette, but he’s left them up in his room -- their room. It will cut short his stay at the bar … and then what? He can already sense that things are different between them. No matter how hard he digs in his heels he knows it’s pointless, the wheel is turning inexorably and in one direction. He’d sooner be able to stop the Earth in its orbit, or the Minus Wave, for that matter.

But he’s not going to give in without a fight. “Do you know how ridiculous that sounds? You’re not some loyal dog waiting for his master’s return.”

Goku sets his jaw stubbornly.

Sanzo answers his own question. “Probably as ridiculous as I was back at the room,” he admits. He’s all too aware of Goku now, even with the limiter on. He won’t take it off, this time not because he’s afraid of the Minus Wave, but because it would give whoever is responsible some kind of perverse satisfaction. He’s never been good at bending like a willow, not like Koumyou was. He closes his eyes and sees his master in his mind’s eye, not as he was the night he was killed, but as the man who seemingly floated through his days, untouched by the minute pains and irritations of every day life. As an adult, Sanzo knows that his view of Koumyou is warped by his childhood adoration, but he has enough objectivity for him to know somehow he’ll never measure up to his master’s ability to just _be_.

“Are you okay, Sanzo?” Goku’s voice is so close it startles him. Sanzo looks in the mirror; he’s pale and drawn; his skin is almost paper-white.

“Why do you want me?” he asks.

Goku flinches then takes a deep breath. “I dunno,” he says, shrugging his shoulders. “It just feels … right. Like we belong together.”

“You deserve better,” he snaps.

Goku shakes his head. His eyes are shining now, fueled by the stupid grin on his face. He’s hopeless. And fearless, too, he knows that his admission -- though, in not so many words -- has cost more than a few their lives. Of course, the subtle difference is intentions. Goku would never willingly hurt him.

And Sanzo doesn’t feel like murdering Goku. What he feels like is getting fucked by him on the high quality, pillow-topped mattress upstairs in their tastefully decorated room. His blood is running hotter and hotter and he’s too exhausted to fight the arousal that’s coming on like a freight train. Or maybe he just doesn’t want to anymore. Maybe what’s been pointless all this time is ignoring his own desires for so long on an elusive, inane mission. Goku senses the change immediately. Sanzo can tell because the air between them suddenly feels electrified.

Goku stands up.

“’M gonna go for a swim. You should come, too.”

He doesn’t wait for Sanzo to reply, and Sanzo’s too stunned to demand that he stay. He watches Goku leave, a dull ache forming in his chest.

He hates swimming -- hates any kind of useless exercise, really -- but Goku’s invitation eats at Sanzo; he wonders just what exactly the monkey is playing at, which, if Goku weren’t so guileless, would have been the point. But now Sanzo’s head is fuzzy and wishes he hadn’t had that whisky when beer alone probably would have sufficed. Now he feels thick-tongued and rooted in place.

He knows what will happen if he follows Goku. But he knows it will still happen if he chooses to go back to their room instead; it’s only a matter of time. He leaves more money on the bar and gets up.

Not for the first time he’s chasing after Goku. In the elevator Sanzo tries to rehearse what he’ll say, but finds no adequate words.

When he reaches the pool area, it’s deserted, but he sees Goku’s clothes discarded on a lounge. The chlorine assaults Sanzo’s nose and it shakes off his alcohol buzz. Goku steps out of the locker room, wearing just a towel, more towels in his arms. Sanzo feels overheated as his eyes feast on the planes of Goku’s chest and travel down the pleasing taper of his waist to his narrow hips. He hasn’t been a scrawny kid for years -- he’s muscle and bone and a force of nature who could pin Sanzo and take what he wanted, even now.

“I want you,” he says brazenly, and something about Goku taking charge makes Sanzo feel lightheaded and even more turned on. He walks toward Sanzo and stops only inches in front of him. His lips are parted in invitation and Sanzo reaches for him, desire spilling over his skin, engulfing him.

Their lips meet. The kiss is teeth and tongue -- primal -- there’s nothing soft about it. Goku tastes like the beer and whisky he’s consumed and Sanzo can’t get enough of it. He holds Goku’s head firmly in his hands and ravishes him.

Goku moans softly. Sanzo can feel his entire body vibrating, but his hands are still occupied with the towels he’s been carrying, which have been crushed between them. Sanzo pulls away only far enough to rip them from his grasp and throws them to the floor, then tackles the one he’s wearing and adds it to the pile. Goku doesn’t protest, and when Sanzo drops to his knees and takes him in to the root he gasps.

“S-s-s-sanzo, we’re in public!”

Sanzo lets him go and looks up. “You should have chosen better.” But he sees Goku’s point and the pool does look inviting. He stands up. Goku looks disconsolate until Sanzo begins to pull his sweater over his head. He undoes his buckle and his jeans follow suit. “You said something about a swim?”

He turns and dives into the water; the coolness does nothing to abate his erection. He hears the splash as Goku joins him. Sanzo’s a strong swimmer and he heads for the far corner of the L-shaped pool, which is secluded from the rest of the area by an outcropping of tropical ferns. Goku catches up with him long before he reaches the spot and their bodies twine in the water, cocks bobbing against each other. Sanzo feels himself being pulled under by Goku’s weight and for a split seconds he thinks he’s drowning but then he’s surfacing, sputtering and getting pushed to the side sheltered by the ferns. Goku’s mouth is on his skin everywhere at once and Sanzo can only hold on for dear life. This side of the pool is the deep end -- three meters deep the stencil on the concrete lip helpfully tells him.

Goku takes a deep breath and submerges. Milliseconds later Sanzo’s dick is enveloped in a blazing heat. Goku sucks hard and the sensation is dizzying. He feels Goku’s throat muscles constrict around him and it feels like he’s being swallowed whole. His grip slips momentarily and then he manages to find it before he goes under again. He’s helpless to stop Goku and helpless to stop his climax. He pulses into Goku’s mouth; Goku breaks the surface only after Sanzo’s dick has softened. He takes another deep breath and then he’s kissing Sanzo, thrusting his tongue deep inside Sanzo’s mouth. He tastes of cum now; Sanzo feels the stirring of another arousal almost immediately.

Goku wraps his legs around Sanzo’s waist and rests his arms on the edge of the pool to give Sanzo a chance to let go. His hands trace the contours of Goku’s body and his thumbs tease both nipples mercilessly until Goku’s whimpers turn into a low keen. It’s only when he begs that Sanzo relents, finally palming Goku’s turgid length. Within mere seconds he’s coming, his hips canting in a frantic rhythm. As his spend disperses in the water, Goku rests his head against the crook of Sanzo’s neck.

Sanzo’s already hungry for more. “Is that all you’ve got, monkey?” he says, pushing Goku off of him.

This time he manages to make it to the other end of the pool and clambers out before Goku can catch up. He’s nearly dried himself when Goku swings up and out of the pool in one fluid motion, and, for a second, Sanzo steels himself to be tackled. Goku, however, grabs a towel and dries off. Sanzo is momentarily amazed at how in tune with his moods Goku is. But then he realizes that Goku has always had a knack for reading him when it mattered.

Sanzo dresses with some difficulty. His skin is still damp but he wants to get back to their room. Goku’s just finished zipping his pants when a group enters the pool area. They’re drunk and loud and Sanzo heads for the door, Goku close on his heels, hastily pulling his shirt over his head.

They barely make it to the bed. They leave a trail of hastily discarded clothes in their wake and then Sanzo is pinned under Goku’s weight and once again Goku’s mouth is attacking every surface of skin within reach. It’s much better this time, if only because Goku can reach more of him. His tongue flicks over Sanzo’s hardened nipples and then he’s going down on Sanzo once more.

Sanzo’s helpless against the onslaught. He can only arch his back into the touches and bury his hands in Goku’s hair, silently urging him on. He shuts his eyes and the sensations intensify. He opens his mouth but can only repeat Goku’s name over and over as Goku slowly draws a second climax from him. He pushes Sanzo’s legs wide and swipes his along the perineum and then teases at Sanzo’s entrance.

“Fuck,” Sanzo chokes out as the tip of Goku’s tongue wriggles inside, coaxing the tight muscle to open. Goku gently suckles the sensitive spot until Sanzo’s thrashing his head from side to side. His hands slip from Goku’s hair to fist the bed linens. He’s going to come again if Goku keeps it up and he’s just on the brink when he finally stops. Sanzo opens his eyes and takes a ragged breath. Goku’s pushing his knees toward his chest. “Do you know what you’re doing?” he asks when he sees Goku reaching for a bottle of lotion on the nightstand.

Goku leans forward and lays gentle kisses along Sanzo’s sternum. “Uh-huh,” he answers, then adds, “but not because I’ve ever tried it,” before Sanzo’s mind can race off in several directions -- each one worse that the other -- of just how Goku gained that knowledge.

“Okay.”

Goku relaxes measurably and Sanzo allows a laugh. It’s one without rancor and Goku smiles radiantly. Within seconds Sanzo’s skin feels like it’s burning up as Goku slowly and carefully enters him. He feels huge this way and it takes a few tense moments for Sanzo’s body to open further to accommodate him, but it does and Sanzo kicks his back with his heel.

“You’re not going to break me.”

“I know. I just want to remember how this feels.”

It feels fantastic, and Sanzo feels like a fool for waiting so long. Goku moves and Sanzo feels him inside and the sensation nearly sends him over the edge for a third time. He manages to gain some semblance of control over his traitorous body and soon his hips are meeting Goku’s in a savage rhythm. His hands rove over Goku’s back and squeeze his buttocks as Goku’s mouth is once again on Sanzo’s body, this time laying a series of nips along his collarbone -- hard enough to leave marks.

He couldn’t care less.

They’re fast becoming a sweaty mass and their bodies are becoming slippery. Goku changes his position slightly and suddenly every nerve in Sanzo’s body is afire, radiating out from deep within his body. Each thrust sends new frissons of pleasure pulsing through him. Goku slows down and grinds against Sanzo, then collapses against him. Sanzo feels a heat bloom inside his body and he continues to rub his dick against the firm planes of Goku’s abdomen until he reaches completion.

They’re both a sticky mess and Sanzo can still smell the chlorine in Goku’s hair. But he’s too spent to move beyond finding a more comfortable position. Goku slips off of him and Sanzo rolls on his side and curls his body against Goku’s back, his hand sliding possessively over his ribcage.

 

“Kouryuu.”

Sanzo’s eyes open and his head comes up off the pillow. He’s still in bed with Goku; neither have moved an inch since they fell asleep. The scent of their arousals permeates the bedding; it’s comforting.

It was his master’s voice again that woke him but this time Sanzo can’t be assed to get up. He closes his eyes and settles again, Goku’s head tucked under his chin.

“Kouryuu.”

 _Dammit! What?!_

He’s shocked when his master’s voice replies. “Kouryuu, look at me.”

Startled fully awake now, Sanzo sits up. His master is sitting on the bed opposite. He’s resplendent in his robes and crown, bathed in an eerie light.

“You’ve learned this lesson well, as I knew you would.”

“L-l-lesson?” he stutters. His gun is within arm’s length and Sanzo considers reaching for it, but reconsiders. He doesn’t feel endangered.

“It could be looked at like that, yes. The Boddhisatva engaged me in a little wager.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Se didn’t believe you could find your humanity again. But I knew that you’d never lost it. You just needed a little help getting in touch with it.” Koumyou wasn’t making any sense, but that was nothing really new.

“Master, is this real or am I dreaming?”

“Both, Kouryuu.”

He should have seen that answer coming.

“So this bet, what did you win?”

“This time. You always were such a serious boy, Kouryuu.”

“And you were never serious enough!” Sanzo retorts.

Koumyou laughs and the sound is like silk sliding over Sanzo’s skin. He swallows hard and glances over at Goku; he’s not even stirred.

“I could never give you what you needed, but I knew someday you’d meet someone who would.” He moves his head slightly and Sanzo knows exactly who Koumyou means.

“Che. He’s a pain in my ass.”

“Literally?”

Sanzo is just about ready to die from embarrassment. He covers his face with his hands briefly, then massages his forehead with the heels of his palms.

“He’s good for you, Kouryuu. He gives you purpose.”

The phrase strikes a chord within Sanzo; as if he’s heard it before. He feels ghostly hands on his bare shoulders and the scent of sake and tobacco fill his nostrils. Koumyou’s standing in front of him and Sanzo feels a visceral need to bury his head in his master’s robes.

“It’s time for me to go, but I want to tell you one last thing. You’ve made me so proud, Kouryuu.” He’s fading away as Sanzo reaches out for him and grabs nothing.

 

Sanzo wakes with a start to a pair of wide gold eyes just inches from his face. He reflexively pushes Goku away.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” he hisses. He rolls over and his body is full of complaints and the reasons why come flooding into his mind.

“You’re you!” Goku exclaims unfazed. He jumps out of the bed in all his naked glory.

“Of course I’m me!” Sanzo snaps. He feels a tingling in his balls; he’s growing hard already.

“No, you’re _really_ you!” Goku points to Sanzo’s wrist. The cuff is gone, but his fingers are long and graceful and human. He remembers the dream he had. He doesn’t want to think about it for long, though. Goku’s toeing the carpet nervously.

“What is it?”

“Does that mean? … Last night …” he stumbles for words, but Sanzo gets his drift.

He sits up and lets the sheet drop away from his body. He’s fully hard now. “Maybe I should just fuck you and we can find out.”


End file.
